


Reluctant Exercitation Strategies

by starrysummernights



Series: As the Summer Rains Fall [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Greg Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Combat Training, Falling In Love, Gen, M/M, Mycroft doesn't understand what he's feeling, Oblivious, Omega Mycroft Holmes, Omega Verse, Teenagers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrysummernights/pseuds/starrysummernights
Summary: Prequel to A Canopy of Incandescent Blue.Captain Lestrade attempts to teach a 15-year-old Prince Mycroft self-defense and hand-to-hand combat skills. It goes about as well as you'd expect.





	Reluctant Exercitation Strategies

**Author's Note:**

> This idea latched on and wouldn't let go.
> 
> Mycroft is 15 years old and very prickly and annoying and everything a 15 year old generally is. He doesn't understand what he feels about Captain Lestrade until he suddenly does. Bless him  
> Greg Lestrade is in his late 20's in this prequel. 
> 
> NOTHING sexual happens between these two until Mycroft is of age. Because Mycroft has a crush and Greg is just doing his best not to kill the arsehole of a Prince.

“Is this really necessary?”

Mycroft watched as Captain Lestrade shifted into an intimidating attack position in front of him, eyeing the Alpha with wary trepidation.

“You are aware that I have more important things to do with my time than waste it doing something as impracticable as _sparring_?” He tried to inject as much scorn into the word as possible, and he thought he succeeded when the Alpha’s expression darkened.

“I do understand that, Your Highness, but self-defense isn’t impracticable. It’s very important because you may need to protect yourself one day-“

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t protecting me your _job_?” The mockery in his voice was almost tangible and Mycroft relished the annoyed look which flashed across the Alpha’s face- there and gone- before he managed to tamp it down. But Mycroft had still seen it.

He smirked.

“ _Yes_ , Your Highness,” Captain Lestrade said with exaggerated patience, “that _is_ my job, but as I told your mother, I may not always be present to-“

“You’ve only just been taken on as Captain of the Guard last month. Are you already planning to be derelict in your duties?”

“ _No, Your Highness_.” Captain Lestrade was getting madder by the second but doing his best not to show it.

“Are you absolutely certain of that, Captain?”

He was failing.

“Yes. Your. Highness.” He growled, the honorific sounding more like a curse word, and Mycroft felt a glimmer of smug satisfaction, watching as the Alpha struggled to control himself.

He loved needling the man who recently had been placed as his Captain of the Guard, tormenting him with these verbal disputes which the poor man was never actually able to win. He tried, of course. Valiantly. It was what Mycroft liked best about him: Captain Lestrade wasn’t one to give up easily. The very fact that he was still Captain after everything Mycroft had put him through was example enough of his tenaciousness.

It was unfair- Mycroft knew- and he didn’t even know _why_ he enjoyed tormenting his Captain so much…but their verbal matches were the highlights of his day. He thought it maybe had something to do with how he felt when they were fighting, when he wanted the Alpha’s attention and the way he felt when he finally _got_ that attention: a kind of swooping sensation in his midsection and a particularly worrisome lightheaded feeling.

The first time it’d happened, Mycroft was afraid he was sick, but the symptoms went away when the Captain did. It took a few more repetitions of that same thing before he discovered that it was the _Captain_ who made him feel that way…and then a few more repetitions before Mycroft decided that he rather _liked_ the way the Captain made him feel…

“I simply want you to have the necessary skills at your disposal in case a situation ever arises in which I am not present or able to protect you.” Each word was bitten off in annoyance, sharp and short. “Even if that situation never arises.” Captain Lestrade amended, trying to be fair, and Mycroft pounced.

“If such a situation will never arise, why are you insisting on wasting my time going through this charade? If you’re truly going to be as diligent as you say you will be concerning my personal safety, I don’t understand why I have to engage in something so base as sparring.”

“Because.” Captain Lestrade’s eyes glinted with mischief, and Mycroft knew he was going to hate what the Alpha said next. “One day, Your Highness, when you do something extremely stupid-“

“I never do things that are extremely stupid.” Mycroft snapped back, his own temper flaring, stung by the baseless accusation and assault on his intelligence. He never made mistakes. Captain Lestrade’s smiled widened.

“As you say.” He said, managing to sound both contrite and doubtful in the same breath.

Mycroft glared at him.

“I still believe that your learning a few basic self-defense moves would be useful…even though I will unfailingly defend and protect you to the best of my abilities, and since you will never do anything _extremely_ stupid…”

Mycroft hated Captain Lestrade. He really, really did.

But the Captain’s point had been made, and Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward and capitulating with very poor grace.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with then. As quickly as possible. That’s an order, Captain.” He added sternly. “I do have important meetings this afternoon which I cannot miss.”

Captain Lestrade bowed, a triumphant smirk playing around his lips which Mycroft looked forward to replacing. “Yes, Your Highness.”

* * *

 

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…

“Hold your arm like this, Your Highness. Position your hand up…no further up…”

This had been a mistake.

For Mycroft to have been so confident earlier that he never made mistakes, he’d been slow to realize that this was a terrible, dreadful, horrifying, abysmal mistake.

Stupid. He was so stupid.

“Let me show you, Your Highness. See? If you hold your hand like this, you can put more force behind the attack. Throw your assailant off-balance. I’ll take you through the motions…you just follow my lead and lean into it…”

Mycroft had blundered his way into this situation like an oblivious peon and now he was paying the price. The strange, exciting, mortifying price.

He should have known- but he hadn’t stopped to think, to realize that-

“Widen your stance a bit.” Captain Lestrade was _touching_ _him_ , his hands on Mycroft’s hips, shifting him into the position he wanted. “Your feet are too close together. No, spread your legs. You have to have a good stance so you’re not thrown off balance…”

Mycroft did as he was told, a refrain of “spread your legs” in Captain Lestrade’s voice echoing over and over in his head. He blushed.

Oh gods.

Captain Lestrade manhandled Mycroft, straightening and adjusting- pulling his shoulders back, encouraging him to straighten his spine, and arranging his arms in the appropriate pose. He’d explained the whys and wherefores of the position and stance and defensive maneuver to Mycroft earlier, but Mycroft hadn’t heard a word of it. Not a single godsdamn word.

“Alright. Let’s try it. Ready?”

No.

“Yes.”

Captain Lestrade moved in front of him again, eying Mycroft’s body critically. His gaze flicked from his face to his arms and then further down-

Mycroft choked on air. He fell out of the carefully arranged position, coughing and trying to catch his breath. He leaned forward, feeling like a fool as he wheezed, carefully not looking at his Captain.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Mycroft nodded, but he didn’t really know if he was. He felt…perplexed. He’d never had an Alpha look at him like that. Assessing- even if Mycroft knew it hadn’t been sexual in the least. Captain Lestrade was being professional. He’d been checking his stance, not…doing anything else.

Still.

Captain Lestrade looked worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m- I’m f-fine.”

The Captain gave him a skeptical look. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but…I guess I should have said this before but I thought it was something you knew. Um. I won’t actually hurt you. When we spar. We need to practice the moves so you’ll know the right way to go about things, but that doesn’t mean I’ll make actual contact with you. Not like when I train with the Guard.”

“I knew that.” Mycroft scoffed, channeling his confused distress into anger which was so much easier than any alternative. “Whatever gave you such an asinine idea that I didn’t know my own Captain wouldn’t thrash me and leave me bloody in the dirt?”

“Because you looked…” Captain Lestrade paused, as if unsure he should finish that statement. “Afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Mycroft said, and he went lightheaded, the swooping feeling in his stomach returning, when the Captain gave him a small smile, looking genuinely pleased.

“Good. Because I don’t want you afraid of me, Your Highness.”

“Yes. Well. I’m not. So.” Mycroft walked away a few paces, needing the space between them, and then facing the Captain again. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, and now was not the time to ponder it. He wanted this over as quickly as possible so he could leave, because he didn’t know how much more exposure to the Alpha he could take without embarrassing himself. “Shall we carry on?”

* * *

_Half an hour later..._

“Alright.” Captain Lestrade ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand straight up and giving him a half-deranged appearance. It was already in disarray from his pulling at it for the last half hour, frustrated not only with Mycroft’s lack of skill but his continued ambivalence towards what he was trying to teach him. “Let’s try something else.”

He didn’t sound enthusiastic about doing so. Which was fine with Mycroft. He wasn’t enthusiastic about it either.

He was uncomfortably sweaty. His body was _moist_ in places which were _not_ supposed to be moist and his back was wet with sweat. Droplets dotted his forehead. He could smell himself and while that was alarming in and of itself because he prided himself on being clean, it was also worrisome for another reason entirely.

But thankfully the wax patches he put over his scent glands every morning were doing their job: dampening his Omega scent and obscuring any trace of his real gender. Even as close as they were, Captain Lestrade wouldn’t be able to scent him and discover his secret. He wouldn’t know that the acknowledged Beta Prince of Northumbria was, in actuality, an Omega in disguise.

Mycroft preferred to keep it that way.

He and his mother had finalized their plan just last year to ensure the safety and continued happiness of his little brother, the Crown Prince Sherlock, and that plan hinged on Mycroft’s unremitting subterfuge concerning his real gender. If Mycroft were found to be an Omega, he would be the Crown Prince of Northumbria, next in line for the throne, and soon-to-be married to an Alpha and bonded so they could continue the line.

Which would mean, Mycroft thought as he traced over the high neck of his tunic, feeling at the well-known edges of his hidden wax patches, that Sherlock would be forced to leave Northumbria. There wouldn’t be a place for a second Omega in the Court and so he would be married off to an Alpha from another country to form an alliance, sent away to live with them, and probably never ever see Mycroft ever again.

The very idea was painful. Mycroft loved his little brother with all his heart, and he would do anything to protect him.

And so every morning he readied himself for the day, covering all his scent glands with hot wax which smarted painfully until it dried, but clung to his skin stubbornly until he removed them later that night. He pretended to the entire world that he was a Beta, knowing he couldn’t allow himself the smallest slip-up without destroying everything. The uncomfortable pain from the wax and his nonstop, anxious machinations were worth it, though, if Sherlock remained safe. Mycroft would have put himself through much, much worse so long as Sherlock was safe and happy and healthy.

Mycroft eyed Captain Lestrade as the Alpha briefly closed his eyes, seemingly praying to the gods for patience before they continued on with their lessons. He didn’t know what would happen if he found out what Mycroft really was. Probably nothing. The Captain was an honorable Alpha with a sense of loyalty half a mile wide. He may keep their secret…but Mycroft didn’t want to find out.

“Let’s try something else.”

“Must we?” Mycroft reluctantly dragged his feet to the spot Captain Lestrade indicated. “We’ve been practicing for ages.”

“It’s only been half an hour.” Captain Lestrade didn't sound as if he could believe it. “We’ll just. Try a few more attacks.”

He was persistent, Mycroft would give him that. Grudgingly.

“Alright.” Captain Lestrade rotated his neck, appearing like a martyr, long-suffering. Which Mycroft thought was unfair. If anyone was long-suffering in this situation it was him. “Now. Let’s say someone comes at you from behind. Realistically, that’s how you’d get attacked. Easier to sneak up on someone than come at them from the front-“

“Then please explain to me why you’ve persisted this _entire time_ in teaching me only defensive maneuvers _from the front?_ ”

“- _but_ you can still defend yourself. Easily. All you have to do is not panic, remember your stance, and drive your elbow backwards- let me show you…”

He took Mycroft’s hand and pulled at it, placing it on his chest-

“What’re you doing?” Mycroft demanded, flustered, heat rising to his face which he immediately resented.

“I’m showing you where to aim. I mean, if you are attacked, do whatever you can to get free, but it would be more efficacious if you hit them…here.” Captain Lestrade put Mycroft’s hand on his ribs, spanning it over his clothed chest and started lecturing about which part of the chest was better to aim for to cause the most pain and why.

Mycroft nodded along. He watched his hand be moved about the Alpha’s body with as blank an expression as possible. He’d never touched someone like that before. Someone he wasn’t related to. It was very intimate, no matter if Captain Lestrade was a professional and they were in a training yard under the clear blue sky. He was touching an Alpha’s chest. Could feel firm muscles beneath his palm, and his own heart beat faster, faster-

“Alright. Turn around, Your Highness. Let me show you what to do.”

Mycroft quickly spun around, his cheeks stinging with a blush, and then Captain Lestrade’s hands were on his body again, moving him as he demonstrated the maneuver, the correct way to go about things. It was all very, very professional.

Mycroft couldn’t breathe.

“Do it hard. Harder than that.”

No one had ever touched Mycroft before.

“You’re supposed to make this hurt.”

Well. Mummy had, of course. And Daddy. Sherlock. The palace physician once or twice when Mycroft was a child. But Mycroft had never been touched by someone who was male. An Alpha. Someone he wasn’t related to. He hadn’t given much thought to it either because he’d never expected to be touched by anyone. Ever. That would ruin his plan, expose his secret, and risk Sherlock’s safety.

“And again. See? You’re doing great. This isn’t a difficult thing…”

It wasn’t a sacrifice, he’d thought. Who wanted an Alpha pawing at them with their grubby hands? Probably with dirt beneath their fingernails. Messy and sweaty. Who would want-

Nothing had ever felt so good as being touched by Captain Lestrade. His hands were on Mycroft’s elbows, slowly drawing his arm back and demonstrating where to hit his hypothetical opponent. The warmth of his touch bled through Mycroft’s sleeve, and he was suddenly too hot. Stifling. Needed to put some distance between them. He still couldn’t breathe.

Captain Lestrade was saying something, but Mycroft’s focus was on each point of contact between them, his eyes glazed…

“Are you ready to try this for real, Your Highness?”

Mycroft nodded, staring sightlessly into the distance, slowly reaching a shocking and unexpected conclusion about his Captain-

“Alright. Don’t pull your punches. I doubt you’ll hurt me. I’m going to come at you, and I want you to try and injure me using what I’ve just shown you.”

The words were slow to register, and by the time they did-

Mycroft inhaled sharply when the Alpha’s arms wrapped fully around him, pulling him in close against his body. His entire body flashed hot in a quick rush and he struggled, panicked because he suddenly realized-

He was in love with Captain Lestrade.

Belatedly, Mycroft remembered the self-defense maneuver he was supposed to be doing and made a feeble attempt but his mind was elsewhere. He was in love with Captain Lestrade. How? How had this happened? How had Mycroft allowed this to happen? The Alpha’s body was warm. Solid. Mycroft could feel the strength in his arms when he pulled against him, straining to get free, but he couldn’t.

He was in love with Captain Lestrade.

Alarm made him drive his elbow back the way Captain Lestrade had shown him, trying to strike him in the ribs, and landed on the target…but with no result. And it seemed the Captain wouldn’t let him go this time unless he actually succeeded and he needed to be released now- _right now_ \- and Mycroft elbowed him again and again, finally hearing the Captain grunt- right in his ear, breathy and deep and-

“Let me go!” Mycroft ordered, embarrassed at how his voice quavered and Captain Lestrade’s arms immediately fell away so that Mycroft took a few staggering steps forward, putting distance between them, trying to get control of himself. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Or what to do. His hands were shaking, stomach twisted in knots, and low in his pelvis he felt…there was…

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? Your Highness? I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to be rough. Was that too much?” Captain Lestrade was asking worriedly, and Mycroft could smell him. In the air. On his clothes. It made him want to cover his nose. Move further away.

Turn around. Bury his nose in the Captain’s neck. Let himself be scented in the way that Mycroft knew couples who were intimate with each other scented.

Oh gods.

“Of course you didn’t hurt me.” Mycroft retorted, and he sounded furious enough that Captain Lestrade actually took a step backward. Mycroft was glad. He didn’t even feel badly about it. “I’m only frustrated because you’re taking away what little time I have free to teach me ridiculous things that will never be beneficial to anyone. Especially myself.” Mycroft drew himself up, snapping his spine straight and staring at the Captain down his nose which he knew the Alpha hated. “We’re done. Good afternoon, Captain.”

* * *

 

Gods, but the Prince was a fucking brat.

Greg glared at the arrogant, self-centered, spoiled arsehole in front of him, biting his tongue to keep his scathing remark from spilling out of his mouth. He was literally just trying to help the jumped up little prick. But gods forbid the 15-year-old Beta do anything with his fucking lily white hands.

Just because he wanted the arrogant sod to learn how to throw a punch didn’t mean Greg wouldn’t protect him, serve and obey him, to the very best of his ability just as he’d vowed to do earlier that year. And as far as Greg was concerned, that included preparing the Prince in the event of the worst- if Greg were incapacitated or otherwise not available- as a practicality. But everyone in the entire godsdamn palace acted like he was trying to make Mycroft take care of himself or some rubbish.

Which was absurd.

Greg knew as well as anyone that Prince Mycroft couldn’t defend himself. He was short and chubby, with round eyes and curly red hair which made him look like a sacrificial lamb, fit for the slaughter…if a sacrificial lamb made caustic remarks and made everyone’s life around them a living hell on a daily basis.

Which was why, Greg seethed, the little dickhead needed to learn how to defend himself properly.

“Your Highness,” He began carefully, moderating his voice as best he could, “I disagree that this is a waste of your time- which I know is precious. It’s been my experience that having a knowledge of basic hand-to-hand combat can sometimes be the deciding factor in-“

“I really do not care to again hear your reasons why, Captain.” The Prince said coolly, dismissing anything else Greg wanted to say with a wave of his hand. Greg saw red. “I do not wish to train in such a physically demanding way, as if I were some common foot soldier or a ruffian from the Lower District.” Prince Mycroft sniffed. “You were hired by the Queen to protect me. You’ve made vows binding yourself to that obligation, and while you have a reputation of being hard-working and honest, if you do not think you are up to the task of defending me then I will find someone else who can. Is that clear?”

This was the last time he was helping him, Greg fumed, aware that he and the Prince were squared off against each other in a pointless duel. Pointless because they both already knew who would win.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He backed down, and Mycroft inclined his head oh-so-politely.

“Then good day, Captain Lestrade.”

Greg let the Prince get almost out of the training yard before he couldn’t contain himself any longer and jogged after him, calling out. Prince Mycroft turned, raising an eyebrow in a forbidding expression which made Greg want to keep his mouth shut. But he couldn’t. This was important. Even if Prince Mycroft refused to believe it.

“If you won’t let me to teach you basic self-defense moves…will you at least allow me to offer you some advice?”

“If you must.”

Kind of you, you fucking prick.

“If you’re ever attacked- and I’m not there…which I will be. I’ve already said I would and I meant that. But maybe I died defending you like I vowed. You can imagine that if it’ll make you happy and the scenario more agreeable.” Greg added wryly and he thought he saw, for a brief second, a small smile play about the Prince’s lips. But he blinked and it was gone and he assumed he’d imagined it. “If the worst happens, and I’m not there, and an Alpha grabs you…kick them in the testicles as hard as you can.”

Mycroft blinked at him owlishly. “I- I beg your pardon?”

“I know it’s not considered fair to use in fights, but if this is a matter of life or death, if it’s you or them, or if you’re afraid and you’re in danger…do it.”

Mycroft didn’t reply, but just blinked at him a bit more.

“You probably know what I’m talking about, how badly that can hurt.” Greg went on, flinching when he remembered all the times he’d been kneed or hit in the groin, doubling over from the pain of it and thinking he would be sick. It wouldn’t be so bad to use against Betas because their testicles were smaller than an Alphas, but the Prince would still know what Greg meant because even if they were smaller they were still sensitive and _what the hell was he doing thinking of the Prince’s testicles?_

“So you can imagine how effective it would be against an Alpha.” Greg finished. “So kick them. As hard as you can. Over and over until you have them on the ground, or until I get there to help.”

“Very well, Captain. Thank you for the information.” Mycroft turned to leave-

“Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

“I…I don’t mean to be an arsehole. About this. I know it’s annoyed you but…I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“…thank you, Captain.” Prince Mycroft hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, then seemed to make up his mind. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

Greg watched the Prince hurrying away, resigned to following after the little prick for the rest of his life, defending him until his dying breath. He’d do that to the very best of his ability and never let the brilliant idiot out of his sight for a minute while he was on duty. Not only because Mycroft couldn’t defend himself from a five-year-old Omega girl…but also because Queen Holmes’ and Mycroft’s insinuations stung. They behaved as if Greg were incompetent and couldn’t take care of a 15-year-old Beta.

He could. He would do anything to protect Prince Mycroft, and he would spend the rest of his life proving it. Not only because he had made vows to both the Queen and Prince Mycroft, but Greg could admit, even while he was so angry he could barely see straight, that there was something oddly endearing about the Beta. Even when he was being annoying and making Greg’s life a living hell, he couldn’t help liking him.

Sort of.

Sometimes.

* * *

 

The scent of the Alpha lingered, infusing Mycroft’s tunic. He pretended he wasn’t aware of it the rest of the day, but that night after he’d closed and locked his bedroom door, he blew out all of the candles and feeling shameful even though no one was there to witness him being so pathetic, pressed the tunic to his face.

He was in love with Captain Lestrade.

How could he have let this happen? What was he going to do?

Nothing, he thought, absently rubbing his face against the fabric, scenting at it and letting the resulting jittery happiness skitter across his nerves. Because how he felt about the Captain was pointless. Nothing would ever come of it. It couldn’t.

He told himself that, but it was still a long time before he stopped scenting at his tunic, eventually crawling beneath the covers and holding it close to his face as he drifted off to sleep…


End file.
